Ask the dealership for an overnight test-drive. Newer black 5-series. They said "okay".
Stop at the Four Seasons; enter the sparsely populated dining room and begin playing the Kawai grand piano. Notice grim faces on large silver-haired men in suits entering the room. They speak to one another on their headsets, although they are no more than ten feet apart. Grim faces soon beget pleasant acceptance and jovial conversation. An older woman draped in a black couture dress and a dense batch of rhinoplasty reaches for her Sasquatched husband for a quick tango towards the exit; his plodding feet just trudge along and out the glass door.
Step out and up the marv white marble staircase with gold anodized handrail fixed-against a beveled mirror which almost obtrusively reflects faux gas lights which beam from the numerous Dynasty chandeliers. It's quite a tasteful array of mauve and teal furniture juxtaposed against gilt lanterns and an atrium condensed with fake orchids. The mood is right for my bat-shit technique. I look-up to smiling faces and receive a quiet round of applause when I leave.
Traverse two floors down into lobby while acquiring vast amounts of stationary inside the antique decor hutches.
Head to this weeks "cool new place." Order an old-fashioned, play third-wheel and bolt.
I can only think of her; my insides twist with loneliness with every woman whose eye I inadvertently catch.
I am simply not there to some people. Others gravitate... oft disconcertingly.
Four in the morning. Empty toll road, no change. Fuck all else.
This baby purrs like a cheetah in heat as I run through the electronic gear box; she runs through the herd like Tony Dorsett coated with fresh Crisco and Astro-Glide.
Tickle the 145 mph mark on the tasteful minimalist red speedometer - notice there's another grand left on the odometer in fifth.
I engage the lamentable and inane puss-out before I even attempt sixth.
I wonder if customers know that jamming the accelerator with the force of a righteously indignant dick-kick actually makes the car reciprocate with corneal vibrating performance.
She's beautiful, and I love her - but she'll never be mine.
Just like always.
Sometimes I just have to touch.
Someday I'll not have to give it all back.
Someday this all might make sense.